**Unveiling the Mystery: Roy Pullam’s ‘The First Death’ Poem Explores Intriguing Depths of Loss**
As I sit here, keyboard ready to delve into the depths of human experience through poetry, I can’t help but ponder: at what age do we truly grasp the harsh realities of life, like death, or the insidious creep of illness such as cancer? In this poignant poem, a mere child is forced to confront the inexplicable mystery of loss—in a way, it mirrors our own bewilderment at the unpredictable turns of life. Join me as I navigate through these lines, piecing together the profound emotions and the innocence lost in the shadow of a white, too small coffin. LEARN MORE
I did not know cancer
The mystery
More than my 6 year old mind
Could grasp
Just that my playmate
My cousin
Was in a little white coffin
In the middle
Of the living room
Of her house
My mother
Held my hand
As I saw Mary last
Her little white dress
Her hair in pigtails
Her eyes closed tight
But I knew
She was not sleeping
The low moan
Of her mother
The streaming tears
Of her father
As we sat
In a semi-circle
During the funeral
I heard the preacher
Speak of heaven
A place
Where Mary was
A place as alien
As death to me
Mary was gone
And I
Did not understand
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